


our beautiful time

by renhyuck (thereisnoreality)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnoreality/pseuds/renhyuck
Summary: The thing is, it never gets old. This, the job, the dancing in front of a cheering crowd, the recycled jokes for tv, the same expressions in rotation for photoshoots, none of it gets old for Jisung. Every time he comes back, he dances a little harder, practices a little longer, smiles a little wider. There’s nothing in the world he’d rather do than this, until he absolutely can’t anymore. And he’d always assumed the same applied to the people around him.





	our beautiful time

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my baby. I worked on it for two months straight and it ended up being the longest thing I’ve ever written. I was so emotional when I finished and I’m so sad to let these characters go, but I’m so excited that they’re finally out in the world. 
> 
> A few notes on the story:  
> -The story jumps around a LOT. Pay attention to the years above each section. Jisung’s age is the other number.  
> -Donghyuck’s choices are very much borne out of circumstance and none of the characters in the story are what I think they are in real life.  
> -The closest approximation I have for how Jisung’s song sounds in my head is Agust D’s The Last. It was the song I listened to on repeat while writing that scene and I think it encompasses a lot of what I was feeling at the time.  
> -I have a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/thereisnoreality/playlist/5tGI2UmkUZtiKNwVZtegQc?si=VdISQc6yTLuOHqOclEmBrQ) of songs that I listened to on repeat while writing and I’d highly recommend listening to it to get a feel for the story.  
> \- This is an early birthday present to my little sister, the biggest kiss to you <3  
> \- title is from beautiful time by nct dream

 

(2024, 23)

 

The thing is, it never gets old. This, the job, the dancing in front of a cheering crowd, the recycled jokes for tv, the same expressions in rotation for photoshoots, none of it gets old for Jisung. Every time he comes back, he dances a little harder, practices a little longer, smiles a little wider. There’s nothing in the world he’d rather do than this, until he absolutely can’t anymore. And he’d always assumed the same applied to the people around him.

 

Jisung knows of the dark side of the industry, knows that it’s definitely not the glitter and glamour that ends up on screen, has known seniors who’ve left, too worn down by the rough edges of idol life scraping up against them harsher than they can take, has seen EXO themselves disband after over twelve years together, but it’s never hit him like that. It’d never even crossed Jisung’s mind to think that the same could happen to him, to his team.

  
  
  


Jisung is _excited._ Finally, after nearly three years, they’re coming back together as one unit, the _original_ NCT Dream, coming back as one. He’s gone to meet Chenle at the airport, too excited to wait back at the company. Chenle’d been gone filming for some Chinese outdoor survival show for the past three months and when he bursts out the gates, it’s with a bright smile and an even brighter tan. He laughs loudly, ignoring the dozen clicks of camera shuttering away in milliseconds and flings himself into Jisung’s arms.

 

Jisung grunts and manages to catch Chenle’s hair in his mouth as he lowers Chenle to the floor. “What do they feed you over there?” He quips, strained. “Rocks?”

 

“It’s good to see you Jisung-ah,” Chenle says brightly, his accent freshly strong, like he’d just landed in Korea for the first time. “It’s been too long.”

 

Jisung nods in rueful agreement, leading the way out, flashing a quick smile at his fansites. SM had really taken the whole ‘global group’ title as a challenge and in the last several years, Jisung has seen his members spread out across the world, and has seen more fresh faces than he can count declare themselves as NCT. He and Chenle had been thrown together for a millennial group a few years ago to celebrate some event of the company’s, but they hadn’t been together since.

  


“Why do you think we’re coming back?” Chenle asks as Jisung helps him haul his multiple suitcases to his apartment. “It’s not as if it’s any special anniversary.”  
  
Jisung shrugs, leaning against the wall as Chenle unlocks the door. “Who knows what SM has up their sleeves now?” He asks, barely managing to stop himself from faceplanting on the couch as soon as Chenle ushers him in. He’s been up since four am and his stomach rumbles warningly, a surefire sign that he’d forgotten to eat today.

 

Chenle snorts. “True,” he collapses on the couch next to Jisung and leans his head back. “It’ll be nice to see the hyungs again though.”

 

Jisung makes a vague noise of agreement, and pushes down the anxiety starting to swirl in his gut at the mere thought.

  
  
  
  


They meet at Mark hyung’s apartment, as they’ve always done when it was just the seven of them. When Mark’s scandal broke, Jisung had turned up at three am, Chenle by his side, shaking from the cold and several other things, to find the rest of his members crowded around the table, Renjun quietly furious, Jeno in the middle of finishing off a bottle of soju, and Jaemin and Donghyuck surrounding Mark like a shield, ready to protect him from the outside world. When Renjun had gotten in a car accident in China on some schedule, they’d gathered there, silent and waiting for some news, any news, to arrive from the company, clutching each others hands tightly, the sound of the blood rushing in their ears loud enough to drown out the rest of the world. When they’d won their first daesang, as a group, as _their_ group, it had been Mark’s apartment they’d stumbled back to, drunk on victory and other heady substances, giggling and falling over each other and gleefully snickering at the silliest things until they passed out on the living room floor, on crumpled up blankets and pillows tugged from the sofa.

 

Jisung was as intimate with Mark’s apartment as he was his own, but none of the comfort and familiarity could stop him from being nervous as he entered, stomping the snow off his boots, Chenle right beside him.

 

“Jisungie!” Jaemin’s voice sounds gleefully and a blur coming at him is the only warning Jisung gets before he’s slammed against the door in a bear grip.

 

“ _Hy-ung_ ,” Jisung chokes out, unsuccessfully trying to rid himself from Jaemin’s grasp, as Chenle just laughs and slips inside past them. “Let go!”

 

“No,” Jaemin cries mournfully. “It’s been months - months! - since I’ve seen my pretty Sungie’s face.” He draws back just barely enough to pinch at Jisung’s cheeks with freezing fingers.

 

Jisung wrestles himself out of Jaemin’s grip, pulling away only to slip against the tiling on his damp socks. He flails for a second, before a hand catches him hauling him up and he comes up to see Renjun’s tired smile.

 

“Always entering with a bang, maknae,” he says letting go of Jisung’s arm to ruffle his hair gently.

 

“The bang was Jaemin hyung,” Jisung says, and he’s absolutely not pouting. He refuses. “It’s good to see you hyung.”

 

Renjun brightens a little and leads him away from Jaemin’s fawning to the living room. “Jeno’s coming a little later,” he says a little throatily, “and Mark’s in the kitchen.”

 

“He’s not cooking is he?” Jisung asks worriedly casting off his coat, before plopping down. “And hyung,” he wrinkles his nose at Renjun, “is your throat ok?”

 

Renjun waves his concern away. “Just a cold, don’t worry.”

 

“I heard that, you brat,” Mark says coming up behind Renjun from the kitchen. Jisung grins up at him, suddenly feeling lighter. Mark never fails to make Jisung feel like he’s a little kid again, and some days more than others, days like this for instance, he appreciates it. “No, I’m not cooking, we’re getting take out.”  


“Good,” Jisung says, theatrically heaving a sigh and giggling a little when Mark rolls his eyes with a fond look and turns back to the kitchen.

 

“What do you want to drink?” He calls over his shoulder.

 

Jisung shrugs tucking his legs up under him. “Whatever hyungs are having,” he calls back and just manages to brace himself as Jaemin drops down next to him, immediately snuggling up to Jisung.

 

“Sure you can handle that maknae?”

 

Jisung’s stomach drops to his feet, and he tenses up. Donghyuck is leaning against the entryway to the kitchen, looking more tired than ever, a small smirk on his face as he brings a mug up to his mouth. His hair is fluffy and black and he’s wearing an overly large sweatshirt and glasses. Jisung’s heart thuds painfully.

 

“Hi- hi hyung,” is all he manages, voice coming out quiet all of a sudden.

 

Donghyuck slowly lowers the mug enough to glance at him over the rim, before smiling gently. Jisung’s heart lets out a faint whimper and falls to the bottom of his rib cage.  “Hey Jisung-ah.” Before he can say anymore, the doorbell rings and Mark yells at Donghyuck to get it and Donghyuck slides away, socked feet slipping on the floor.

 

Jisung stares at the wall where Donghyuck had been standing, unseeing. It’d been months- no, nearly a year now - since he’d last seen Donghyuck, and they both haven’t changed. Donghyuck still looks as good as ever, and Jisung is as much of a mess as ever in his presence.

 

“Sungie,” Jaemin’s voice comes too close to his ear and Jisung flinches a little, blinking at him. “Relax, you’re about to snap.” His hand runs soothingly across Jisung’s back and Jisung untenses, letting his muscles loose. “Still the same huh,” Jaemin asks almost soundlessly as Jeno files in complaining about the snow, Donghyuck attached to him like a limpet, empty mug dangling from his fingers.

 

“Not now, hyung,” Jisung whispers. “Please.”

 

Jaemin nods and draws back but there’s a look in his eyes that lets Jisung know that this won’t be the last he’s hearing of this.

 

 

After dinner, which Jisung had been relieved to see was from the tiny restaurant by Mark’s house and not from his kitchen, they all settle around the living room. Mark’s expression doesn’t betray anything as he nudges Donghyuck over and shoves into the couch next to him, but Jisung has been faced with his blank face too many times to know that it’s never a good thing.

 

“So,” Mark starts slowly, taking a long drag out of his bottle as if for strength. “We’re having a comeback. Just us. Again.”

 

“Yeah, hyung, we know,” Chenle chimes from besides Jisung and Jaemin shushes him distractedly, eyes narrowed in Mark’s direction, and something in Jisung’s head stands to attention.

 

Mark clears his throat once, then again, nervously touching his hair and casting a look at Donghyuck who’s fiddling with the label on his bottle, not meeting anyone’s eyes, before flitting over to - to- Renjun? Jisung frowns. He doesn’t know why Mark would be worried about something concerning Donghyuck and Renjun. “We’re coming back,” Mark starts again, carefully, cautiously. “But this is - this is going to be the last comeback for some of us.” The last words are dragged out, slow and painful as if they’d been pulled out unwillingly from Mark’s mouth, and Jisung doesn’t understand at first, thinks that Mark might have mixed up the words, never mind that he’d been living in Korea for over a decade now.

 

“Wh-” Jisung starts out but Jaemin bursts in with all the ferocity of a battering ram.

 

“What the fuck?” He asks lowly, clipped, and his tone is hard. Jisung blinks at his hyung in shock. He’s never seen Jaemin look so stony. “This is going to be the last comeback for _which_ of us?”

 

Donghyuck clears his throat, and sets his bottle down on the coffee table with a _thunk._ “For me, Jaemin-ah.” He finally looks up, looking straight at Jisung, pinning him in place with his gaze. “For me, and,” he casts a wry smile, eyes sliding away from Jisung to someone across the table. “Injunnie.”

 

Jisung sits there frozen as the room explodes. He’d always known that the this industry, their jobs, were unforgiving. He’d known that the lifespan of an idol was short, and sometimes brutal. He’d _known_ that not everyone could grit their teeth, keep their head down and weather their way through the storm after a while, that it got too hard. He hadn’t thought it’d be his team, his hyungs, who left first.

  


 

 

(2021, 20)

 

SM Town is like an annual play. A costume Jisung adorns for three nights, a sweet maknae smile plastered on his face, as he bows and bows again to every senior that passes his way. He doesn’t when he sees the rest of NCT though, just straightens his back and makes a cheeky face as Johnny hyung pinches his cheeks on the way to the bathroom. Jisung keeps up the charade for most of his group to pass - when did they add so many new faces? - until he sees Donghyuck and reaches out to tug him into an empty closet.

 

“Hyung,” he whispers harshly and his heart hurts when Donghyuck raises a cool eyebrow at him.

 

“What?” He asks impatiently. “I’m about to go on soon.”

 

Jisung opens his mouth, falters for a second, then blurts out. “Why won’t you talk to me anymore - no, why won’t you _look_ at me anymore?”

 

Donghyuck stares blankly at him. “Is there a reason I’m supposed to?” He asks coolly, blank eyes shifting to the shut door.

 

Jisung swallows hard, the words suddenly sticking in his throat, and he blinks several times, eyes starting to burn. Donghyuck has never been this cold to him before. “Hyung,” he whispers quietly, and he can hear his voice tremble.

 

Donghyuck shifts his gaze back and his eyes widen in shock, cold facade crumpling as Jisung embarrassingly, horrifyingly, starts to cry. “Jisung, fuck,” Donghyuck hisses, hand already coming up to cup his cheeks, swiping at the tears. Jisung makes a horrified noise and tries to back away, back hitting the wall before he can move any farther. Why did he have to start _crying_? “Fuck please don’t cry Sungie, I’m sorry - you’re going to ruin your makeup, please don’t cry, hyung is sorry.”

 

“I’m not crying,” Jisung says thickly, tugging his face out of Donghyuck’s grasp. “I’m fine, I just want to know why you won’t talk to me.”

 

Donghyuck looks pained. “Jisung-ah, it’s- you’re not,” he sighs, clearly at a loss for words, as a few more tears trickle down Jisung’s face. He swipes at them angrily.

 

“Is it because I’m in love with you?” Jisung snaps. He’s furious all of a sudden. He’s furious at himself for crying, he’s furious at Donghyuck for making him cry, and he’s furious at this whole goddamn situation that has him stuck in a supply closet sobbing like a baby, in a whole different country while the entirety of his company mills around outside. Donghyuck stands there frozen, mouth hanging open. “Is it hyung?” Jisung presses, feeling his eyes watering up again and hating himself more because of it. “Because I can tell you, I’m not going to stop. Nothing’s going to make me change my mind.” And he quickly turns his face up as more tears spill out, twisting his body half around, willing the tears to go back in, so he can escape this closet, escape Donghyuck.

 

“Jisungie,” Donghyuck tries to turn him around and Jisung protests. “Jisung, for fucks sake, look at me.” Donghyuck says firmly, hands on Jisung’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes. Jisung thinks distantly that Donghyuck is devastatingly beautiful, even in the dim light of a storage closet. “You’re not allowed to be in love with me, do you understand?” Jisung opens his mouth but Donghyuck shushes him, pressing a finger to his lips and Jisung is shocked enough at the touch that he falls silent. “Don’t interrupt your hyung. I’m not letting you ruin your entire career over something as silly as me. You’re not going to go through the same thing Mark hyung did because of me. I won’t do that to you.”

 

“But hyung, I don’t care.” Jisung whispers, the words muffled around Donghyuck’s finger and he’s so tempted to slip it into his mouth, just to see his hyung’s reaction, just to see if it’d be like the old days when he could kiss Donghyuck on the cheek in the middle of the dorms and the most backlash he’d get was a scrunched up nose from Donghyuck and a screech about pda from Renjun. “I like you so much,” he says earnestly looking at Donghyuck, willing Donghyuck to understand him, to reciprocate, even the tiniest, littlest bit when he’s standing here baring his heart.

 

Donghyuck just looks sad. “I made you a promise,” he says softly. “And I’m going to stick to it.” And before Jisung can protest, Donghyuck leans in and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, effectively rendering him immobile, before opening the door and walking away, flooding the tiny closet with the voices of a hundred people all at once.

 

Two weeks later, Donghyuck gets put into their new American group and Jisung doesn’t see him again for a year.

  
  


 

 

(2019, 18)

 

Jisung has been watching Donghyuck for a while now. It wasn’t anything new really. He’s stepped up the choreo game in the last few months, enough so that the choreographer hyung had left him in charge of an increasing number of practices, leaving Jisung to criticise his members without getting his head beaten in. But this, this, was for a different reason. He’s been observing all of his hyungs for a while now, casting out whichever he deemed unfit for the task that lay before him, and he’s come to one conclusion.

 

“Hyung,” he directs at Donghyuck at the end of practice, heart starting to hammer in his chest. “Can you stay back for a bit.”

 

“What is it?” Donghyuck gripes as the rest of the members file out, Jaemin blowing an air kiss at Jisung who grudgingly catches it just to see Jaemin cheer silently as the door shuts. “Is it that one move again cause I’ve told you, my hips aren’t what they used to be, you can’t expect me to move that way, it’s not normal.”

 

Jisung rolls his eyes and crosses the room to fiddle with the computer, shutting the music off. “Leaving your old man tendencies aside hyung-”

 

“This brat-” Donghyuck interrupts, without much force.

 

“Leaving it aside hyung,” Jisung insists, turning to face Donghyuck but keeping his eyes on the ground, cheeks flaring up unconsciously. “I have a, uh, a favour to ask you.”

 

“What’s up?”

 

Jisung opens his mouth and closes it again, then takes a deep breath wondering how he should phrase this. “It’s more of an experiment than anything else, and I know what I’m doing, so you shouldn’t tell me that I don’t, and I waited for like two weeks before asking you, so I haven’t rushed into this and-”

 

“Jisung-ah.” Donghyuck cuts him off sounding amused. “Just tell me what you need.”

 

 _Ugh_ Jisung’s head wails at him _couldn’t he have phrased that any better?_ “I need you to kiss me, please.” He says measured and careful, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

 

“I - what?” Donghyuck sounds surprised, but not angry. It’s enough to make Jisung peek up at him through his bangs.

 

“I need you to kiss me.” Jisung repeats and weirdly a laugh bubbles up in him at the sight of Donghyuck’s eyebrows raising and a strange look crossing his face.

 

“Why?” Donghyuck asks cautiously.

 

“It’s an-”

 

“Experiment, yeah I heard you, but funnily enough Jisung-ah, that’s not good enough for me.” Donghyuck says coming closer and Jisung backs away hurriedly, ending up with his back against the mirror and Donghyuck immediately stops, a few feet away.

 

“Ah- hyung- I’m, it’s not anything serious. I- I just wanted to confirm something.” Jisung stutters, and now that he’s faced with it, it’s starting to dawn on him what a supremely bad idea this was. He should have just swallowed the nausea and asked Chenle instead.

 

“Yeah, Jisung I’m getting that.” Donghyuck says and his voice sounds calm enough that Jisung finally looks up. Donghyuck doesn’t look mad or confused, he just looks patient. “Wanna enlighten me a bit more?”

 

Jisung swallows hard and bites the bullet. “I want to know if I like boys. And kissing you was the only thing I could think of.”

 

Donghyuck nods slowly. “Me.” He states. “And not the others?”

 

Jisung wrinkles his nose. “I’d rather kiss a dead fish than kiss Chenle or Renjun hyung. And Jaemin hyung would never shut up about it. And I think Jeno and Mark hyung would faint at the thought.”

 

Donghyuck lets out a laugh, and Jisung’s heart starts to lighten. If Donghyuck’s laughing, he might agree. “Naturally the only sensible choice was me”, he says, and Jisung nods carefully.

 

“So will you?” He asks in a small voice.

 

“You know Jisung-ah,” Donghyuck says, taking a tentative step closer and when Jisung doesn’t move away, he comes closer. “It doesn’t take kissing a boy to know you like one,” he steps into Jisung’s space and Jisung watches him with wide eyes, frozen. “But if you want to know so badly,” a smirk tips over Donghyuck’s mouth. “Who am I to block you on this path to discovery?”

 

Jisung lets out a puff of air. “Y- yeah hyung, I mean, this was- exactly what I thought, and - and..” he trails off as Donghyuck stretches up to cup his neck, thumb sweeping gently over his cheek.

 

“You good?” Donghyuck asks, close enough that his breath ruffles Jisung’s bangs. Jisung nods silently, and every bone in his body locks into place when Donghyuck leans in.

 

When Donghyuck kisses him, it doesn’t feel like anything. Well, that’s not exactly right. It doesn’t feel like what Jisung thought it should feel like. Dramas showed first kisses like the world stopped and their hearts pounded in tune to the symphony in the background. Books, the few that Jisung had picked up, described them to be a life changing moment. This, this… this was nothing like that. This was simple. Nothing more than a type of contact that Jisung hadn’t felt before. Donghyuck’s dry palms were warm on his face, his chest pressed against Jisung’s and the kiss was slightly wet and very short. Donghyuck pulls back only after a few seconds and he grins when Jisung just stares at him.

 

“What’d you think?” He asks sweetly and Jisung’s heart stops beating.

 

“Do it again,” he blurts and Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

 

“You sure?” He asks carefully and Jisung gets tired of waiting and pulls him in. Their teeth clack uncomfortably and Jisung tilts his head trying to make it better, and after a few seconds he forgets what to do with his hands. Donghyuck pulls away laughing, mouth shiny and Jisung tracks it, transfixed.

 

“Take it slower, maknae-yah,” Donghyuck says gently, and cups Jisung’s neck, thumb stroking gently over his cheek, and pulls him in and does something magical. Suddenly it’s not weird or strange or nothing, it’s wonderfully good. Jisung can feel himself melting into putty under the kiss, and his eyes fall shut, letting it overtake him in waves. Donghyuck nips very gently at his bottom lip, and Jisung lets out an embarrassing sigh, and clutches his waist tightly. When Donghyuck finally pulls away, Jisung’s gasping for breath and he feels like his world has been tilted off its axis.

 

“Well?” Donghyuck asks hesitantly, as Jisung leans back against the mirror reevaluating his entire life.

 

“Yeah,” Jisung breathes. “Fuck. Ok.”

 

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says wryly, stepping out of Jisung’s space.

 

Jisung nods slowly, unable to stop his tongue from running over his lower lip. He needs to sit down and think. Preferably after persuading Jaemin to get him a bottle of beer. “Um thanks, hyung,” he says, blinking at Donghyuck, shaking his bangs out of his eyes.

 

Donghyuck looks painfully amused. “Glad I could help,” he smirks before tilting his head at Jisung. “Come on, get hyung dinner for helping out so nicely.”

  
  


 

 

(2024, 23)

 

Practice was a well worn routine at this point. Eight years together mean they ran like a well oiled machine. But today, the air was cold and Jisung’s skin prickled every time he looked up to see his members in the mirror. Mark was as steady as ever, leading them calmly and tossing ideas to the choreographer when the silence got too loud. Chenle looked worried, there was a small frown on his face growing bigger and bigger every time one of them messed up. Jisung had never been able to tell what Jeno felt, he kept his emotions hidden impressively, and today was no different. Jaemin was the one that had taken Jisung off guard. He’d stormed out of Mark’s apartment, door slamming angrily in his wake, and Jeno had chased after him, forgotten coat clutched in his hand, a comforting smile shot their way before he’d closed the door gently behind him. Today, Jaemin was silent and cold, anger radiating off him, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Renjun had gone pale when Jaemin had stormed out, and it didn’t seem like anything had changed. Both he and Donghyuck were silent, resigned. Jisung didn’t know how to function like this. He was used to one, maybe two members fighting at one time, and he knew how to navigate that terrain, knew how to dispel the tension here and there. This, though, this was completely different.

 

After a couple of hours, hardly the longest their practices lasted, the choreographer shuts off the music. “What the hell is wrong with all of you today? I’ve never seen you all so disjointed.” He stares at all them, frown fixed on his face.

 

“Sorry, hyung,” Mark says, looking pained. The dancer part of Jisung’s brain shrivels up under the criticism. “We’ll keep working on it.”

 

The choreographer sighs and shakes his head. “Just - figure it out,” he says irritably walking out. “We’ll restart tomorrow, you’re all useless to me right now.”

 

Mark waits till the door shuts before turning to them all, expression stormy. “My apartment. Tonight. We’re fixing this.”

  
  
  
  


They all arrive at different times, having personal schedules and practices to finish up. Jisung is the first one to show and when he knocks, no one answers. He frowns at the door, the gilded 407 glaring back down at him. He knocks again, louder this time. No one answers. Groaning, Jisung fishes his phone out of his jeans. It’s freezing in the hallway, and his practice shoes soaked up a lot more snow than his boots did.

 

**sung sungie (7:03 pm)**

hyung where are you?

 

**mork (7:03 pm)**

oh jisung-ah, i’m nearly there. I lost track of time.

 

**sung sungie (7:04 pm)**

hurry your hallway is freezing

 

**mork (7:04 pm)**

[mork sent a sticker]

  


Jisung stares with pursed lips down at the picture of a cartoon rabbit running furiously and doesn’t bother responding. He tilts his head to glare balefully at the door trying to open it with just his stare, but it doesn’t budge. Jisung sighs and sinks to the floor against the wall, starting to untie his shoes. As long as he’s here he might as well free his toes from their icy prison. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, toes tucked under his legs, fiddling with his phone, when the sound of the elevator alerts him.

 

Jisung’s heart drops when Donghyuck shuffles out, a hood pulled over half his face, a mask covering the other half. He stops short when he sees Jisung curled up outside Mark’s apartment, eyes widening behind his bangs.

 

“Jisung?” Donghyuck asks, tugging off his mask and running a hand through his hair, dislodging the hood in the movement. “What are you doing out here?”  


Jisung shrugs, looking away. “Mark hyung wasn’t home yet and I don’t know the code to his door.”

 

Donghyuck lets out a huff and strides forward. “And you didn’t text to him to ask for it?” He asks irritably, pushing the code in and gesturing for Jisung to get up. “It’s freezing out here.”

 

Jisung shrugs again. “Didn’t think of it,” he mumbles, gathering up his shoes, and tucking his phone back into his pocket.

 

Donghyuck draws in a breath through his teeth and the sharp sound makes Jisung look up at him. Donghyuck isn’t looking at him however, and when Jisung follows his gaze, he sees his own feet, bloodless and toes curling into the carpet. “You must have been freezing.” Donghyuck says again and his voice is quieter. Jisung tries not to let it affect him, tries to remind himself where he stands, where _they_ stand.

 

“I’m fine, hyung.” He says and brushes past Donghyuck into the blissful warmth of Mark’s apartment.

 

He makes himself at home, curling up on the singular armchair, that’s usually reserved for Mark during their meetings but Jisung figures he’s earned it by nearly losing his toes to the cold, with a blanket, Mark’s socks and one of his old hoodies, settling into the curves of Jisung’s body like it’d always belonged there. Jisung may or may not press his nose to the sleeve, a small semblance of comfort in the face of what was going to happen this evening.

 

Donghyuck putters around in the kitchen a while longer before emerging, two cups of tea clutched in his hand. He thrusts one at Jisung before settling into the loveseat across from him. “Drink, you’ll warm up.” Donghyuck says softly and Jisung nods in thanks. Donghyuck has shed his outerwear and he looks unbearably soft in his worn down sweater, the warm lighting reflecting off his eyes. Jisung’s heart starts to thud painfully again.

 

“Jisung-ah,” Donghyuck starts then trails off clearly not knowing where to go from there, staring down at his mug intensely. Jisung makes a noise to let him know he’s listening, but doesn’t speak for fear of his voice cracking. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since just the two of them were alone. He doesn’t know how to handle being this close to Donghyuck without internally combusting. He’d thought it would get easier with time. It hadn’t. “Jisung-ah,” Donghyuck starts up again, looking up at him. “I’m sorry.”

 

Jisung stares back at him, confused. “For what?” He asks, thankful beyond belief when his voice doesn’t crack.

 

Donghyuck grimaces. “For not telling you, ahead, that I - that we - were leaving.”

 

The ugly laugh that spills out surprises even Jisung. “Hyung,” he says and he can’t help the sudden misery that drips across his voice. “You made it very clear a long time ago that you didn’t owe me anything. That I was nothing to you.” He meets Donghyuck’s eyes and is savagely pleased with the hurt that he sees, reflected back at him. “What makes this time any different?”

 

“Jisung- _,_ ” Donghyuck begins sounding distressed and Jisung can’t help the relief that floods through him when the lock pad chimes and Mark, Renjun and Jeno pile in, complaining about the snow.

 

“Made yourselves comfy, I see,” Mark says, smile widening at the sight of them, dumping several plastic bags on the coffee table before turning to his bedroom. “Is that my hoodie, Jisung?”

 

“Shouldn’t have left me to freeze in your hallway,” Jisung calls back, forcing a grin as Jeno and Renjun settle in around them, pointedly avoiding Donghyuck’s gaze.

  
  
  
  


It’s only when Chenle and Jaemin arrive, the latter still looking as stony as ever, that Mark reveals what’s inside the plastic bags.

 

“Drink up,” Mark orders, distributing bottles around the room.

 

“Is this responsible, leader?” Chenle asks amused, but not pausing in popping the cap off and taking a long swig.

 

“I don’t care if it isn’t,” Mark says darkly tossing back a shot of soju. “We’re not having this conversation sober. We’ll kill each other.”

 

“What makes you think we won’t kill each other drunk?” Renjun asks coolly, shooting a look across the room at Jaemin who glowers back at him.

 

“Maybe if you hadn’t kept secrets for six fucking months, then we wouldn’t be in this position.” Jaemin snarls and Jisung freezes. Six _months_?

 

“Six months?” He breaks in and his voice comes out high, young. Everyone turns to look at him but Jisung only looks at Donghyuck. “You knew you were going to leave for half a year? And you didn’t tell m- us?”

 

“Jisung-” Mark starts sounding worried, but Jisung can’t tear his eyes away from Donghyuck, from the way he’s staring back at him, regret written across his face.

 

“I want an explanation,” Jisung demands, finding the strength to turn away from Donghyuck, to look at Renjun instead. He hates, _hates_ , how being around his hyungs turns him into a child again, whiny and immature.  “Why would you only tell us now that you’re _leaving_?” He’d thought it would get easier, being left behind again and again. He’d thought he’d changed, gotten stronger. He hadn’t.

 

“I agree.” Jaemin says setting his bottle down on the table with a _thud._ He settles back into the couch, folding his arms, expression stony. “Explain.”

  


 

 

(2023, 22)

 

They all fly out to see Renjun in the hospital. Mark had woken them up at three am, brushing his hands gently across their shoulders.

 

“They sent us the information,” Mark says lowly and Jisung wonders from his dark circles and ratty hair, if he’d stayed up all night, waiting for news. “I’m going to head over to see him, obviously we don’t all have to go-”

 

“Don’t be silly,” Jeno interrupts, already pulling on his jacket. “We’re all coming.” None of them had argued.

 

Jisung spends the ride to the airport, the two hour flight, the taxi ride to the hospital, all of it,  staring out the window, body numb. He doesn’t know how to process the fact that, while he’d been fucking around with Chenle in the practice rooms, laughing giddily as Chenle’d attempted to spin on his head, Renjun had nearly lost his life. They’d all split after a couple years, SM’s desires to turn them into a truly ‘global’ group, spreading them across continents, away from each other, only meeting here and there a handful times a year, and if they were really lucky, ending up in a project sub unit for a few months. But regardless of the distance, Jisung has always held them, his original team, his hyungs, close to his heart. He knows it’s sappy, knows that he should have probably outgrown this childishness a while ago, but he can’t ever shake the knowledge that these six people were the first ones who’d battled the world with him, who’d taught him so much.

 

Turning these thoughts over and over in his head is what leads to Jisung flinging his body over Renjun’s battered one, breaking down in sobs the second he sees his hyung, looking tinier than ever surrounded by the hospital machines.

 

“Hyung!” He wails, trying not to clutch at Renjun too tightly, lest he hurt him. “Are you okay?”

 

“ _Jisung_ ,” Renjun wheezes shocked, hand coming up to stroke at his back.  

 

“Am I hurting you?” Jisung draws back immediately, tears welling up again when he sees the scratches on Renjun’s face. “Oh, hyung,” he whispers shakily, lifting a finger to the butterfly bandages on his cheeks.

 

“I’m okay,” Renjun says, a tired smile drawing over his face. “I’m not even that hurt Jisung-ah, why are you crying?”

 

“You could’ve died!” Jisung chokes out, valiantly trying to stop the crying. He’s suddenly aware that the rest of his members are still in the room, their silence filling him with dread. “You could have died and I wouldn’t have been there, and- and-” he buries his face in Renjun’s chest again, hugging his hyung’s thin body to him.

 

“Jisung-ah,” Renjun whispers. “Did something happen?” He hisses to the others and Jisung sniffs.

 

“I can hear you,” he says muffled into Renjun’s hospital gown, tears soaking the thin fabric.

 

“Ah,” Mark says cautiously from behind him. “We were all really worried, I guess he - uh, took it hard.”

 

“Oh,” Renjun says, hand carding gently through Jisung’s hair. “Don’t cry Jisung-ah,” he says softly. “I’m okay. I promise I’m okay.”

  
  
  


Jisung escapes not long after, exiting the hospital, face thoroughly covered up, into the biting wind, the tear tracks rapidly cooling. He feels horribly embarrassed, the memory of sobbing into Renjun’s stomach making him flush hot and duck his face into his scarf.

 

He strolls absentmindedly through the streets, pulling his hood up against the wind and ends up shouldering into a quiet coffee shop off the edge of the streets to escape the cold.

 

“What would you like, sir?”

 

Jisung blinks up at the cashier, not understanding the foreign words for a second before his translating skills kick in. “Um- uh,” he stutters looking wildly up at the board in confusion.

 

“Two green teas please, one with milk and sugar.” A voice rattles off in flawless Mandarin and Jisung turns to see Donghyuck standing behind him, hood pulled up to block his face. He stays quiet until Donghyuck leads them over the corner, pushing one mug over at him.

 

“Why did you follow me?” Jisung asks quietly, taking a sip of the tea, feeling the warmth spread down to his toes. Unfortunately it does nothing to ease the nervousness building in his heart.

 

“You can’t just walk around by yourself in a foreign country,” Donghyuck says heavily, sitting back in his chair. “No matter how embarrassed you were.”

 

Jisung flushes again. “I wasn’t embarrassed,” he says mulishly. “I can figure out the way back, leave me alone.”

 

Donghyuck sighs. “Unfortunately, I cannot, in good conscience, leave our maknae to fend for himself in these cold unforgiving streets.” He tries for a smile, strained.

 

Jisung sits up, setting his jaw. “I’m not _your_ anything.” He snaps. He’d been willing to leave things alone. He’d _had_ to leave things alone.

 

Donghyuck’s smile falls and he looks down at his mug. “Yeah,” he says, lips twisting bitterly. “I know.”

 

Jisung stares at him, biting his lip furiously. He hates this. Hates how Donghyuck manages to make him feel, manages to turn him upside down and inside out with only a few words. “You should go-” he starts but is cut off.

 

“Why’d you cry?” Donghyuck interrupts, looking back up at him.

 

Jisung falters. “Huh?”

 

“Why’d you cry?” Donghyuck asks again and Jisung doesn’t understand for second.

 

“At- at the hospital?” He asks uncertainly and Donghyuck raises an eyebrow in answer. Jisung feels anger rise up in him. If this is what Donghyuck followed him out here to ask, he’s going to snap. “Are you asking me why I cried when Renjun hyung was lying there in a hospital bed? After a car accident? That I wasn’t there for?”

 

“That - exactly.” Donghyuck says pointing a finger at him. “Why do you care that you weren’t there?”

 

Jisung stares at him, so angry he can feel himself start to shake. “Is this why you’re talking to me for the first time in four months?” He bites out, forcing the words through the hurt hammering away at his chest. He’d thought it would get better talking to Donghyuck as if they were strangers. He’d thought he’d grown up in the last year. He hadn’t. “To ask why I’m crying over my hyung getting hurt?”

 

“Yes.” Donghyuck says, face neutral.

 

Jisung snaps. “Because I wasn’t there, and I should have been! Because I’m not going to let it happen again, I’m not going to let-” he stops horrified at what he was about to let slip. _I’m not going to let anyone else leave me._

 

Donghyuck looks ashen, facade falling away as Jisung slumps back into his chair, anger fading as quickly as it had come. “That’s what I thought,” he said quietly, and Jisung knows he knows what he was about to say.

 

“I’m leaving.” Jisung says and stands up pushing the tea away. “Thanks for nothing, hyung.”

  
  
  


 

 

(2024, 23)

 

Silence fills the room after Renjun stops speaking. Jisung doesn’t know what to think. He feels horrible, shaken up, after Renjun had basically announced that he was leaving because of his accident.

 

“It’s not just because of that,” Renjun had said, looking tiny as he slumped into the couch tiredly. “I’m exhausted, all the time and I know this comes with the life, but-” he sighs, closing his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I can keep going to PT and keep pushing away the inevitable.”

 

Jaemin looks devastated, knuckles white from how hard he’d been clenching his fists and Jisung can still remember like it was yesterday, the never fading grimace on Jaemin’s face as he pushed through day after day, the painful therapy, the year and a half gone. Jisung’s heart hurts for his hyungs. For Jaemin still having to be careful with his back, for Renjun, tiny and so unbelievably strong that none of them had any idea how much he was struggling. Chenle wraps himself around Renjun, tucking his face into his shoulder to hide his tears.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin says, and his voice startles in the silence, broken and hoarse. “Injunnie, I’m so _sorry_ , I had no right-” he breaks off ducking his face and Renjun pulls away from Chenle gently, to yank Jaemin into a hug.

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Renjun says affectionately, tucking his face into Jaemin’s chest. “Don’t you think I know your temper?”

 

Jisung tears his eyes away from them, eyes falling automatically to Donghyuck who’s staring down at the floor, hand clutching his bottle tightly. “Hyung?” He asks cautiously, voice high and careful. Donghyuck blinks up at him, startling and Jisung notes with a shock that his eyes are distinctly shiny. “Hyung, why are _you_ leaving?”

  
  


 

 

(2019, 18)

 

“ _Hyung!”_ Jisung chases after Donghyuck in the dim street. It’s that strange part of night where the sun has just about set and the streetlights haven’t come on yet, painting the world in lovely shades of pink and gold. Donghyuck laughs, pretty and giddy as he skips down the road. “Give it back!”

 

“ _Nooo_ ,” Donghyuck whines as Jisung catches up to him, tugging at his shirt to grab the polaroid from his fingers. Donghyuck, bored and annoyed of being cooped up in the dorm, had lured Jisung out for a walk with the promise of ice cream at the end and had brought along his camera, sneaking shots of Jisung in his most unattractive states as he tried to stop his ice cream from falling all over his clothes.

 

“I look hideous,” Jisung insists, towering easily over Donghyuck and snatching the picture from him, nearly slamming into Donghyuck’s chest from how close he’s pressed.

 

“You look cute,” Donghyuck pouts looking up at him. The sun hits him at just the right angle then and his brown eyes go amber in the light, hair looking like spun sugar. Jisung’s breath catches as he stares down at him and he backs away hurriedly, pushing the polaroid back at him.

 

“Fine,” he grumbles, turning away trying to calm his stupid heart. “Take it. But I better not see it online, hyung.”

 

“You won’t,” Donghyuck promises, gleefully tucking the polaroid away and smiling sweetly at Jisung, licking the ice cream from where it’d run down his fingers. “Thank you Jisung-ah.” Jisung blinks at him, mind blank. All he can see is Donghyuck sucking off the ice cream, pink lips wrapped around his finger. Donghyuck is looking right back at him, a distinctly amused expression lingering on his face. “Anything wrong?”

 

Jisung stares at him, trying to find the right words to say _yes_ , but all that comes out is a quiet “Kiss me again.”

 

Donghyuck arches an eyebrow. “What?” He asks tossing the rest of his ice cream away, and turning back to Jisung.

 

Jisung clears his throat, suddenly remembering himself. “Uh- nothing - never mind, hyung. We should get back, it’s getting late.” He sets off hurridley down the street but doesn’t get very far before Donghyuck catches his wrist and tugs him into a side alley.

 

“You know it’s so rude to mumble,” Donghyuck says cheerfully, backing Jisung up against the wall. “How am I supposed to hear everything my rude dongsaeng says if he mumbles?”

 

“You know you’re just inadvertently calling yourself old.” Jisung manages to point out before Donghyuck’s rolling his eyes, tugging at his collar and kissing him hard.

 

It’s been nearly a month since Donghyuck first kissed him and Jisung thinks he’s become a bit of an addict for it. He instantly melts under the pressure, wrapping his arms around Donghyuck’s waist and tugging him close. _Kissing is so nice_ Jisung thinks distantly as he pushes back harder wanting more. Kissing _Donghyuck_ was so nice. His mouth is cold and sweet from the ice cream and Jisung licks into it, trying not to seem as desperate as he feels. Donghyuck grins against his mouth, and bites down gently on Jisung’s bottom lip startling a gasp out of him. They pull away, breathing unsteadily and Jisung stares at the way the golden light hits Donghyuck’s face, making his skin glow.

 

“Pretty,” Jisung murmurs, and in some strange fit of courage, he brings his hand up, cups Donghyuck’s face and kisses his nose gently. “You’re so pretty, hyung.”

 

Donghyuck blinks back at him in shock, a pink flush rising up on his cheeks. “T-thanks,” he stutters, trying to pull back, gaze darting everywhere.

 

Jisung grins down at him, holding Donghyuck’s waist tightly to him, not letting him escape. He feels so light and happy. He never wants this moment to end. He just wants it to be them, forever, kissing in an alley, the sun setting Donghyuck on fire, consuming Jisung along with him. “Are you getting flustered, hyung?” He asks delightedly as Donghyuck scowls in embarrassment. “Am I making you shy?”

 

“You’ve gotten too cocky,” Donghyuck informs him and pushes him back against the wall to kiss the grin right off Jisung’s mouth until he’s breathless and gasping into the space between them. (It works).

  
  
  


 

 

(2022, 21)

 

NCT Dream is set to come back during a sweltering summer heat with a bright bubblegum pop song that Jisung had hoped SM would let them age out of. He thinks it would have been easier to act all brooding and mysterious for the camera rather than force a bright smile on his face for 20 hours a day.

 

They’re being given a full album this time around and to Jisung’s surprise, he’s allowed to write a song for it. Apparently his solo debut had done well enough that the company thought it was a good idea for him to start getting song credits. At least that was how Mark explained it when they’d met up for lunch, a week or so after they’d been told the news.

 

“It’s a good thing,” Mark says, stuffing more rice into his mouth hurriedly, casting his eyes around. Ever since his scandal, he’s gotten more wary of being out in public, Jisung’s noticed. It’s not a happy realisation. “It means they’re taking you more seriously.”

 

Jisung nods wishing silently that SM wasn’t the only one who did. “Yeah,” he says. “But I don’t know what to write about, hyung.”

 

Mark shrugs. “Write what you know,” he says simply, leaning over to snatch some of Jisung’s meat. “It’s the best advice I can give you.”

 

“That’s shit advice, hyung.”

 

Mark grins at that, startling and bright. “Tell me that when you finally start writing.” Is all he says instead, choosing to shove more food into his mouth.

  
  
  


Jisung locks himself up in a small vocal practice room, armed with notebook paper, a keyboard and his phone and forces himself to write. And write. And write. And -

 

“Nothing. Fucking nothing,” Jisung groans flinging his pen at the opposite wall, and the room being the size it is, the pen flies right back at him, hitting him in the chest. How did Mark do this all the time? Jisung’s about to go insane and he hasn’t even been here an hour. He sits there for a while staring down at the paper, doodling absentmindedly, trying to kickstart his brain into doing something when his phone pings and Jisung sighs, sliding it out of his pocket.

 

**chen chen (1:28 pm)**

sungieee~~ I’m backkk

 

Jisung’s grins down at his phone, suddenly feeling lighter.

 

**sung sungie (1:28 pm)**

where?!

 

**chen chen (1:29 pm)**

just landed! me and hyuckie hyung are taking a taxi back to the dorms!

 

Jisung’s fingers freeze in typing out his reply. Donghyuck was back? It was silly but Jisung hadn’t thought about Donghyuck being in this comeback. He’d assumed that the American group would have taken up too much of his time to do a proper comeback in Korea. That Jisung would have more time away from him.

 

**chen chen (1:31 pm)**

sungie? you still there?

 

**sung sungie (1:32 pm)**

yeah sorry i was writing

 

**chen chen (1:32 pm)**

ohhhhhh have one solo debut and suddenly you’re a songwriter too??

 

**sung sungie (1:33 pm))**

oh shut the fuck up

i’ll see you back at the dorms ok?

  


 

Jisung tosses the phone aside, ignoring the ensuing pings and stares with renewed concentration at the paper. _Write what you know_ Mark had said.

 

“All right,” Jisung mutters picking up his pen. “I’ll write what I know.”

  
  
  


Jisung only starts to regret his decision when they gather to hear the demos as a whole. He’d enlisted Chenle to sing the demo for him, not trusting his voice to hit the notes he’s sure Renjun and Donghyuck could do with ease.

 

Thankfully, their title seems like the only bubblegum pop song in their whole album, the rest of the songs are a mix of R&B and slower, sweeter tunes. Jisung can very clearly tell which member had a hand in creating the songs; Mark’s is loud and confident and rap heavy. Renjun included a lot of old instruments to make the song sound delicate and pretty, like a butterfly’s wings. Jeno and Jaemin did one together, a pure dance song through and through. Jisung can already tell the choreo for it is going to be hell. Donghyuck’s is slow and jazzy, the lyrics about hope and new beginnings and Jisung looks down to hide his expression and clenches his hands on his thighs to stop any trembling. Jisung’s song is placed last, and so he sits through the entire album in growing anticipation and dread.

 

When the song starts, every muscle in Jisung’s body locks up. He’d finished the lyrics that first day, scrawling through five whole pages, scribbling through discarded words and starting over, again and again and again until the moon had risen high in the sky and his hand was aching and cramping. He’d fought every producer and director on the lyrics, insisting they weren’t to be changed, and Mark, a quietly neutral expression on his face, had backed him up the whole time.

 

Chenle’s voice kicks in, high and lilting over the violins and he shoots Jisung a proud grin. Jisung smiles back at him and then promptly avoids everyone’s gaze, boring holes into the table, heart starting to beat in double time when his rap starts, low and angry as the bass smashes in alongside it.

 

He’d written what he knew. He’d dredged up every angry feeling, every sad thought he’d felt after SMTown, after Donghyuck had left and poured it out all on the page, had poured it all on the demo until he was left breathless and shaking in the recording room, tears starting to drip down his cheeks. He’d written about the loneliness of his solo debut, of the hours spent alone waiting for a call he knew would never come. He’d written about those few shining  moments before everything had turned dark, before he’d learned to grow up, at the very end, as a sort of memory. He’d written to someone, but most importantly he’d written it for himself. A final letter.

 

There’s silence when the song finishes, and Jisung finally chances a peek up at the room, he’s met with stunned faces. Mark and Chenle have heard it before, so they don’t look surprised but Renjun and Jeno, even ever-inscrutable Jeno, have shell shocked looks. Jaemin’s staring at Jisung, hand clenched into a fist on the table, expression startlingly open. Donghyuck is crying.

 

Jisung stares. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Donghyuck cry, not even when they won awards, or their albums had come out, Donghyuck had always just been in the background, gleefully cackling and snapping pictures nonstop. He’s never seen Donghyuck look like this, eyes red and teeth digging into his bottom lip and tears quietly dripping down his face as he stares at the ground.

 

Mark clears his throat and it sounds like a gunshot in the silence. “Well, um, that’s it. For today.” He shuffles the papers in front of him, and shoots Donghyuck a nervous look. “You guys can go, if you want. Just make sure to follow up with manager-hyung about practice and recording sessions.”

 

Donghyuck shoots up and walks out the door, not uttering a word as he does so. It prompts the rest of them into motion, slowly moving up out of their chairs.

 

Chenle brushes his hand over Jisung’s head, startling him out of his daze. “Come on Jisung-ah,” he says softly. “Let’s go eat.” Jisung nods robotically, and follows him out, ignoring the looks the others shoot him. He needs food, first. And then he needs alcohol. And then he needs to process.

  
  
  
  


Recording is hell. The producer had pushed Jisung into directing his song, and despite all his protests, Mark had agreed with him claiming it would give him much needed experience, and thus here Jisung is, sitting in the over large chair in front of recording booth, feeling very much like a child who’d been brought to his father’s workplace on a trip. He gets the rappers out of the way quickly, leaving his part to be recorded last. He’s incredibly, inordinately, proud when Jeno snarls himself hoarse at the chorus and when he trips out of the booth he shoots Jisung a deadly eye-smile.

 

“You did good, maknae-yah,” he says croakily, cupping the back of Jisung’s neck briefly before being ushered away by their manager to drink a gallon of hot tea.

 

Renjun and Chenle record their parts next, and Jisung flounders in the directing. He doesn’t really know what to say to them. Doesn’t want to overstep his bounds, or offend their singing, and ends up letting them record again and again until Mark steps in and teaches him how to offer criticism.

 

“You’re not going to offend them,” Mark says, cap pulled low over his eyes, arms crossed over his chest as he narrows a critical gaze at Renjun. He looks like belongs here, surrounded by all the audio equipment, and Jisung finds himself wishing he could be at that level of professionalism and comfort. “It’s your song, Jisungie, just tell them how you want it sung and they’ll do it.”

  


Donghyuck records next to last, right before Jisung, and he nails it. His voice sounds clear over the instrumental, high and heartbreaking and Jisung curls up in the chair, knees to his chest, chin resting on top and just listens. Donghyuck sounds like he’s being broken as he hits the high notes, effortless and beautiful, and Jisung takes a shuddery breath. He hates how easy this seems for Donghyuck. Hates that Donghyuck can make his song sound so pretty, when the lyrics are about Jisung being torn apart by the very person who sings it. When Donghyuck finishes, Jisung clears his throat, trying discreetly to swipe away the tears that had formed and nods through the glass.

 

“You did well, hyung,” he says, ducking his face.

 

Donghyuck nods silently and walks out without saying a word, bowing to the producers and brushing past Jisung easily.

 

Jisung feels a prick of anger at the dismissal but pushes it down and enters the booth. He takes a deep breath and tries to summon up everything he’d felt over the last year. Tries to take all the anger, the heartbreak, the constant aching, and propel it all into his voice. He finishes in one take.

  
  
  


 

 

(2020, 19)

 

Mark’s scandal breaks in the middle of the night. Jisung wakes up to his phone pinging non stop, lighting up as he’s barraged with texts and phone calls. He blinks blearily once, twice, at his phone, before he’s shoving the blankets aside and hurriedly fumbling for his sweater. He still lives at the dorm with most of the new kids but he’d been over at Chenle’s apartment last night. He finds Chenle already in the kitchen, squinting into the lights, holding out a jacket for Jisung and then they’re gone, hailing a taxi in the wake of the night.

 

They’d all known Mark had a girlfriend, but none of them uttered it out loud. For if it was mentioned, then it became real, became something tangible that could come and destroy them in the end. They never talked about it, but they all knew. Mark in love was a strange and wonderful phenomenon, like bioluminescent waves or the Aurora Borealis. He’d been happier and lighter in the past few months than Jisung had seen him in years. He still worked as hard as he had before but there been a light in his eyes that Jisung had quietly appreciated.

 

But now, there was none of that light, none of that quiet joy. Mark was slumped over, head on Jaemin’s shoulder, eyes dark and hooded. The apartment was silent, save for the sound of bottles being opened and passed over.

 

“I’m sorry,” Mark croaks.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Jaemin and Jeno say simultaneously.

 

“It’s not your fault, Mark hyung,” Chenle whispers tremulously.

 

“I shouldn’t have-” Mark starts and Renjun cuts him off with a fury.

 

“If you say another word, I’m going to punch you,” he says flatly. “You did nothing wrong.”

 

“We work in a fucked up industry,” Donghyuck says, eyes cold as he throws back another shot and forces a full glass into Mark’s hand. “If you apologise for falling in love, I’m never speaking to you again.”

 

Something cold lodges behind Jisung’s chest at those words. He’s well aware of the danger of dating while working as they do. But it’d never hit him as hard as it did right then. Before it’d been something he’d watched in sympathy as senior artists got hauled into locked conference rooms and berated, as their careers got ruined, but now, it was something real. It was happening to Mark, it _could_ happen to him. He blinks at Donghyuck, eyes wide and scared, and the other meets his eyes, gaze softening as he does. He gestures at Jisung to come near and Jisung moves cautiously into his space and curls up under Donghyuck’s arm.

 

“Don’t worry,” Donghyuck whispers almost soundlessly into his hair, pressing a kiss at the top of his head. “Don’t be scared Jisung-ah, it’s not going to happen to you. I promise.”

 

Jisung believes him.

  
  
  
  


They all get placed on hiatus. Somehow management had figured out that they’d all known and their Dream comeback gets pushed back indefinitely. Renjun and Chenle get off relatively easy as they’d had their comeback already announced and get sent off to China in the name of prep. Mark’s scandal had exploded, taking over front pages of news sites and gossip columns and Jisung had never seen his manager so furious. 127’s comeback continues but Mark is kept off, and Jisung finds himself being pushed towards Jeno and Jaemin, vague mentions of a smaller unit cropping up every so often.

 

He doesn’t see Mark at all, only gets vague texts every now and even then his main source of information is Donghyuck. They meet up late for dinner a couple times a week, after Donghyuck’s finished practice.

 

“How is hyung doing?” Jisung asks, pushing a lettuce wrap in Donghyuck’s direction. “Don’t give me that look, you have to eat.”

 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes stuffing the wrap into his mouth. “How do you think he is? Mark functions on being a workaholic. And he’s essentially on house arrest.” He scowls when Jisung pushes another wrap at him when he finishes. “Stop feeding me, I feel like a baby bird.”

 

Jisung grins despite himself. “A very cute baby bird,” he says softly. Donghyuck smiles back but it’s strained and quiet.

 

“What’s wrong?” Jisung prods.

 

Donghyuck takes a deep breath, then looks up at him. “We need to stop this, for a while, at least.”

 

Jisung had known, deep down, that this was coming. He’s, above all, a realist and he’s most pragmatic with himself. He’d known that Donghyuck would pull away sooner or later, to spare them any scrutiny. He knows all this, and yet, it still hurts to hear the words. He nods. “I know.”

 

Donghyuck looks relieved that he doesn’t argue. “It’s not because of- I’m not trying to break up with you-”

 

“Hyung,” Jisung interrupts. “I know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. We can’t draw any more attention to ourselves right now.”

 

Donghyuck nods, a sad smile twisting his mouth. “I’m going to keep my promise,” he says softly, eyes gentle and dark in the dim light of the restaurant. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

 

And because Jisung is naive, because he is a fool, he nods.

  
  
  


 

 

(2021, 20)

 

Donghyuck calls him once the whole time he’s in America. It goes to voicemail.

 

Jisung sits there, on his bed, in his brand new apartment, an hour after his solo debut has dropped, and stares at his phone. He’d been rushed back and forth all day, filming interviews and photoshoots, and had had to do a vlive up until the moment his song had dropped and he’d missed the call.

 

The song had done well on the charts, much, much better than he’d been expecting, and Chenle had screeched a very loud _I KNEW YOU WOULD DO IT_ at him over a blurry video call, amidst the rest of his group screaming congratulations in the background. He’d been proud of himself, for once. He’d been proud of achieving something of his very own, something that would be known as Jisung’s and no one else’s. And he’d missed the _call._

 

Jisung’s groans, flinging himself back on the bed and pushing the phone away. How did Donghyuck manage to maintain such a strong hold on him even from 7000 miles away? He sits up and grabs his, thumbing to the voicemail again. Waits a heartbeat, two, three, staring down at the notification, before clicking it.

 

 _“Hey Jisung-ah,”_ Donghyuck’s voice filters in, a little unclear, but it’s the first time he’s heard Donghyuck’s voice in months, and he falls silent, blood pounding loudly in his ears. _“Congratulations on your debut. I know it’s a little late, but I still don’t know the time difference and I didn’t want to miss it. I watched the music video. You look so grown up.”_ His tone shifts into something warmer and wistful, and Jisung’s chest aches. _“You did so well, Jisung-ah. Hyung really is so, so, incredibly proud of you._ ” Jisung stares down at the screen, not able to see properly anymore from the tears starting to blur his vision. Someone shouts in the distance of the recording. _“Ah,”_ Donghyuck says, quickly. _“I have to go now, but really Jisung-ah, you did amazing, you’re going to_ be _amazing. Remember, hyung will always support you. I lo- um - I’ll always be there for you.”_ He clicks off.

  


Jisung stares down at his phone, not even trying to hold back the tears as they drip down his face and plop in big drops onto his screen. Everything he’d suppressed in the last few months comes rushing back and he sits there, on his bed, on the night of his solo debut, silently wishing he was anyone else.

  
  


 

 

(2019, 18)

 

The woman on screen starts wailing as she’s forced to leave and Jisung cringes at the volume. He turns his head to see Donghyuck, thoroughly engrossed in the movie, fumbling for the popcorn sitting in between them. They’re sitting at the back of a very, very empty theatre. The movie had been out for nearly five months now and it was an early Saturday morning, and Donghyuck had insisted on pulling Jisung out of the house to go see it, despite all his protests.

 

“Hyung,” he whispers.

 

Donghyuck shushes him without taking his eyes of the screen and Jisung rolls his eyes. It’s not even that good of a movie. All that’s happened so far is a lot of crying and cheesy dialogue that he already hears every day at the dorms from Jaemin. He knows though, that he’s going to get hell from Donghyuck if he disturbs him again and he sighs and slumps down to lean against Donghyuck’s shoulder. If he’s going to be stuck here he might as well get a nap out of it.

 

Donghyuck pokes him awake when the credits start rolling. “Were you that bored?” He asks bemusedly. “I thought it was amazing.”

 

“Hyung, that movie was shit.” Jisung informs him, skipping ahead to get out of the theater as fast as he can, only turning to call back, “and you’re buying me lunch to make up for it!”

  
  
  
  


“But why didn’t you like it?” Donghyuck presses, shooting a quick smile at the auntie who leads them to their table at the tiny roadside stall Donghyuck was, for some reason, incredibly fond of. “I thought it was romantic.”

 

Jisung wrinkles his nose. “I don’t think there’s anything romantic about crying about someone and chasing them around the world for a year and a half just to prove their love. It’s just a little bit pathetic. And even when her boyfriend tried to break up with her, she just clung onto him and cried. At some point you should learn to let go.” He fiddles with his chopsticks and when Donghyuck doesn’t reply, he looks up.

 

Donghyuck’s watching him quietly, chin propped up on his hand, eyes soft. “Sometimes I forget how much you’ve grown up, Jisung-ah.” Is all he says when Jisung tilts his head at him.

 

Jisung flushes bright red. “Where did that come from?” He splutters.

 

Donghyuck laughs and reaches over to pat his hand. “Don’t worry maknae-yah, I’m not about to get emotional on you.” His hand lingers, and Jisung takes a quick peek at their surroundings. It was just an old man drinking soup and reading the newspaper intently, and two old women gossiping by the back. No one to notice, or care. He flips his hand over and slides his fingers through Donghyuck’s.

 

Donghyuck looks surprised for a second but then his expression melts into a gorgeous smile, and Jisung’s heart tries very hard not to explode. He tightens his grip around Jisung’s fingers and leans over to ruffle Jisung’s hair, his hand sliding down to cup his cheek very briefly, before returning to the more neutral position on the table. “Now how am I supposed to be unemotional when you go and do things like this all of a sudden?” He says teasingly, smiling fondly and Jisung flushes.

 

“I’m sure you can restrain yourself, hyung,” Jisung quips, grinning back. He’s happier than he’s ever been right now, at this moment, sitting with Donghyuck in an old cafe, the sun shining through the open windows and lighting him up, just like he is on stage, but ten times more beautiful than any artificial light could manage. Jisung doesn’t know what true love is, but he thinks that if he ever figures it out, it would feel a lot like this.

  
  


 

 

(2024, 23)

 

Jisung kind of stumbles through his days after that horrible emotional day at Mark’s apartment. He doesn’t know what to do. They’ve still got a comeback to work on, they’ve got fans waiting for them eagerly, but they’re also leaving _._ Renjun and Donghyuck are _leaving_.

 

Donghyuck had sighed when Jisung had asked him why he was leaving. “Uh,” he’d said, fumbling with his bottle. “I’ve- when I was in America, I realised some things about this life, being an idol, and how much of an impact that had on me, mentally.” He shrugged. “I think I need a break, just for a few years. Maybe I’ll come back. I don’t know.”

 

“But, hyung,” Jisung had said, hushed. “This is all you’ve wanted to do.”

  
  
Donghyuck had smiled then, beautiful and heartbreaking, just like he had been two years ago when he’d left, just like he had been when Jisung had first met him. “Yeah,” he’d said, and motioned to Jisung to come over. When he did, very carefully perching on the edge of the couch, Donghyuck had gently squeezed his hand. “And I did for a long time, and I don’t regret a single second of it, but I’m going to stop now. If only for a while.”

 

Jisung had stared at him, trying very hard not to cry and pressed his face into Donghyuck’s arm, wrapping his arms around his waist, ignoring the fact that only an hour ago he’d been so mad at Donghyuck, he’d have frozen out in the hallway to ignore him, had that been an option. “You’re always going to leave me, aren’t you?” He’d asked quietly so the others couldn’t hear, not sure if he even wanted Donghyuck to hear it.

 

Donghyuck had inhaled sharply, hand coming up to cup the back of Jisung’s neck. “I’m trying not to,” he’d whispered, and Jisung is a fool, but he’s a fool who’s learned, and he tells himself not to listen, not to hope.

  
  
  
  


 

 

(2023, 22)

 

Jisung pushes out into the cold, immediately regretting the decision to leave behind his tea in the coffee shop as the wind whips around him, sneaking in between the crevices between his clothes.

 

“Jisung,” Donghyuck catches his wrist and he turns. It’s the middle of winter, and they’re in China, and Renjun was hurt and Jisung just wanted to go _home._

 

“Let go,” Jisung snaps and Donghyuck immediately drops his hand like it’s made of fire.

 

“Stop running from me,” Donghyuck snaps, sounding frustrated. “I just want to talk.”

 

Jisung lets out a nasty laugh. “Oh really?” He spits, rounding on Donghyuck. “Now you want to talk hyung? You didn’t seem to care the entire year you were in America? You _really_ didn’t want to talk after the MAMA’s, what it is now? Haven’t you toyed with me enough?”

 

With every question Jisung fires off, Donghyuck gets paler. “I - there’s no excuse for last winter.” He starts and Jisung snorts.

 

“Oh, finally got that through your head did you?” He shakes his head, stepping back from Donghyuck. “You were horrible to me for weeks. You don’t just get to come back and pretend like everything’s okay all of a sudden.”

 

“I’m sorry!” Donghyuck cries, and Jisung stops and turns back to him. He wonders how strange it must look to have two Korean men screaming at each other in the middle of the square, when no sane human would willingly subscribe themselves to the cold that was whipping around them now. Donghyuck’s nose is red and he’s shaking, either from the wind or something else that Jisung really doesn’t want to explore. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Jisung-ah. For America, for kissing you at the MAMA’s, for everything. I’m sorry for dating you, and I’m sorry for letting you kiss me that first time when you asked. I’m sorry for telling you I’d take care of you when all I did was hurt you and fuck you over. I’m so sorry.”

 

Jisung stares at him open mouthed. “Are you really?” He asks. Donghyuck was sorry for dating him, for kissing him, for having to do anything with him. He thinks he can feel his heart breaking, but he’s not entirely sure, he’s never felt this way before. “You’re sorry for _knowing_ me?”

 

“No,” Donghyuck says aghast.

 

“Because that’s what it sounds like,” Jisung points out, hands trembling from where he’s shoved them in his pockets. “That you’re sorry for even having met me-“

 

“You were the best thing that happened to me.” Donghyuck interrupts. He looks up at Jisung, gaze firm and open. “And I fucked it up. _That’s_ what I’m sorry for.”

 

Jisung swallows hard. “Oh.” He says softly, the white air puffing out along with his breaths.

 

“Yeah,” Donghyuck peers at him for a second, waiting, but when Jisung doesn’t say anything, he sighs and jerks his head to the road. “Come on, I’m sure Renjun is worried.”

 

Jisung follows him, head spinning. The voice in his head whispers a warning, _don’t fall for him again,_ it says. Jisung tries to listen.

  
  
  


 

 

(2020, 19)

 

Donghyuck is avoiding him. Jisung doesn’t get to see him very much anyways as he’s busy with promotions with the younger members - who call him hyung, and look up to _him_ , Jisung doesn’t really know how to act around them - and Donghyuck is busy with other things. But he knows. Donghyuck is avoiding him.

 

“Hyung,” he corners Donghyuck in a practice room one day, luckily catching him between schedules. “Stop avoiding me.”

 

“I’m not,” Donghyuck mumbles, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve been busy.”

 

“So have I,” Jisung points out exasperated. “I know you said we should stop but, hyung, it’s been six months. They put Mark hyung back on promotions, and I just want to see you.”

 

Donghyuck glances up at him. “I’m not going to give the company any more reason to kick us out.” He says sighing. “Please, Jisung-ah.”

 

“Please what?” Jisung bites, starting to get annoyed. He knows very well what the consequences are for getting caught, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to just have a meal with Donghyuck, maybe kiss him on the cheek in the privacy of their dorm, just to see him flush prettily.

 

“Please stop making this harder than it needs to be.” Donghyuck snaps, pulling away. “I know how you feel-”  


“Do you?” Jisung presses, turning as Donghyuck heads for the door. “Do you know that I love you? That it’s killing me that I don’t get to see you more than a few a times a week?”

 

Donghyuck stares at him, mouth open. Jisung thinks it might be the first time he’s ever made Donghyuck speechless and he’d celebrate if it weren’t for the fact that he’s shattering apart right now. “I -” He starts but cuts off as the door swings open and trainees pile in chattering. They stop short at the sight of Jisung and Donghyuck and bow immediately. “We’ll talk later,” Donghyuck says shortly and then inclines his head at the group and walks out the door.

 

Jisung watches him go, heart heavy in chest, feeling like he’s trying to swallow a stone lodged in his throat.

 

“Sunbaenim?” One of the trainees asks timidly. “Were you going to use this room?”

 

Jisung starts. “No,” he says quickly. “No, go ahead. Work hard.” He forces a smile at them before following in Donghyuck’s long gone footsteps. They don’t talk again for a while.

  
  
  


 

 

(2019, 18)

 

“ _Jisungieee_ ,” Donghyuck sings and Jisung groans tugging the blanket farther over his head.

 

“Go away,” he says, trying to roll his face back into this pillow. Maybe he can suffocate himself back to sleep. “I’m tired.”

 

“It’s one in the afternoon,” Donghyuck prods, trying to lift the blanket and Jisung holds onto it tighter. “I’m bored.”  
  
“Go bother literally anyone else,” Jisung says, turning around in his bed to face the wall and forcefully shutting his eyes. He’s going to go back to his dreams even if he has to slam his head against the wall to pass out. “I intend on sleeping until I physically can’t anymore.”

 

He hears Donghyuck sigh, can _hear_ his pout, but he refuses to move. Moving means giving up his sleep and more importantly, means giving up to Donghyuck, which never ends in a good result. “Fine.” Donghyuck mutters and Jisung expects him to leave, to hear the door click shut. Instead he feels the bed dip as Donghyuck crawls underneath the covers next to him.

 

“Hyung, what are you doing?” Jisung asks as Donghyuck throws an arm over his waist and tangles their legs together.

 

“Cuddling you,” Donghyuck says. “If I don’t get to spend time outside with my baby, might as well get it whenever I can.”

 

 _His baby_. Jisung feels himself turn bright red and he curls into himself tighter, body heating up from the words. _His baby_? “Well, I’m going back to sleep,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected and sleepy, and pushes his face back into the covers. _His baby!_

 

“That’s fine,” Donghyuck says sounding amused. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  
  
  


Jisung wakes up hours later, the sun dipping behind the horizon as he squints in the low light of the room. Donghyuck is fast asleep, hand fisted in the front of Jisung’s shirt, face pressed into his chest, twitching ever so slightly. He’s clinging to Jisung like a limpet, all the way down to his legs which are wrapped around his own. Jisung blinks down at him. Donghyuck has always been pretty to Jisung, but he never gets the chance to observe him up close. Now, he takes his time, tracing the slope of Donghyuck’s nose, his eyelashes, the moles dotting his cheeks, soaks it all in and tries very hard to commit it to memory.

 

Donghyuck mumbles something and presses in closer, hair tickling the bottom of Jisung’s chin. Jisung feels his heart swell a little and he drops a light kiss to Donghyuck’s hair and lets sleep tug him back under. Donghyuck will be there when he wakes up.

  
  
  
  


 

 

(2022, 21)

 

Jisung blinks awake, the harsh lights of their practice room blinding him momentarily. Jaemin is standing above him, a tired smile on his face. “Time to run through it again, Jisung-ah,” he says, easily hauling Jisung up. It’s four am by the clock hanging on the wall but Jisung would never know that time had passed in the bright artificial lights, were it not for the way his limbs drag him down as they run through the routine for the hundredth time that night.

  


Mark shuts off the music and sends them at five am, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Get some sleep,” he says and Jisung knows he’s going to lock himself up in a tiny practice room and write until he falls asleep on the table. “We’ll meet at noon.”

 

Jisung slowly tugs on his jacket, hating the way it sticks to his sweaty skin but he knows the second he walks out of here, he’s going to be hit with a wave of cold air and he can’t afford to get a cold right now.  The others have all mostly filed out, and the door shuts on just Jisung and Donghyuck, who’s fumbling for something in his bag. Jisung takes a deep breath and makes a decision.

 

He waits until Donghyuck has stood up and then crosses the room and tugs at his wrist before he escape the room. “We need to talk,” he says firmly. He’s getting this over with, he’s not going to wait any longer.

 

“Can’t this wait?” Donghyuck asks tiredly, not meeting his eyes. “It’s five am.”

 

“Funnily enough, no it can’t. I thought you were adult enough to come and talk to me when you got back from America but I’m tired of waiting, so we’re having this conversation whether you like it or not.” Jisung says it all in a rush.

 

Donghyuck looks surprised, and for a second he looks more like the old version of himself, not whatever the sad, dispirited apparition he’d been mimicking since he got back. “That’s not any way to talk your hyung,” he reprimands half heartedly.

 

Jisung snorts, ugly and pained. “You don’t get to call yourself that. Not right now.”

 

Donghyuck stares at him, face blank and then he nods. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s talk.

  
  
  
  


 

 

(2022, 21)

 

They win. They win as a group, as their original seven. They win the motherfucking _daesang_. Jisung stares open mouthed at the award as he’s tugged backstage by several hands. Renjun has Chenle in a chokehold, wringing his head around and screaming in his ear as they’re hauled to the back of the waiting rooms. Jeno and Jaemin are sprinting down the hallway in glee. When they finally get into their waiting room and shut the door, Jisung sees Mark break down in sobs for the first time in his life. He’s pulled into a group hug, someone’s hands in his hair, he can hear someone else sob, and suddenly they’re all crying a little, jubilant in their success at last.

  


The feeling doesn’t fade, not after they’ve bowed their way past countless seniors and are hauled in a car back to Mark’s apartment. Not after they’ve cracked open several bottles, giggling madly when they fail at looking cool. Not after Mark has hauled out all his spare blankets and pillows and they’ve made a terrible pillow fort on the ground and they all collapse on it, exhausted and giddy. Jisung stares up at the ceiling, head spinning. It feels like a fever dream, them winning. It feels like a like a daydream that suddenly came true out of the blue. Mark flicks off the light and stumbles back into the pile.

 

“Good night,” he calls hoarsely and a chorus of giggling responds. Jisung turns as best as he can, pressing his face into someone’s shoulder, grinning madly, and falls asleep, easily the happiest he’s ever been.

  
  
  
  


He’s the first one to wake. His head is pounding, and his back is bent awfully out of shape and he’s pretty sure he’s been lying on someone’s elbow all night. When he picks his head up slightly, he sees Chenle’s bright pink hair sprawled on his stomach and Jaemin’s arms and legs wrapped around his whole body. Jisung flops his head back and winces when it makes a thump on the bare ground. He’s not entirely sure how to get out of this whole configuration without waking any of them but he really, really needs to pee.

 

He finally manages to edge himself out after Jaemin rolls over to cling onto Mark and escapes to the bathroom. When he comes back out, it’s to see Donghyuck on the patio, leaning on the railing, two cups in his hand.

 

“I saw you were awake,” Donghyuck offers him a cup and scoots over. Jisung shivers as the cold morning air swirls around them and gratefully accepts the hot mug.

 

“I didn’t think you’d be awake, not after you drank that much.” Jisung says quietly, face turned up to watch the clouds drift lazily above rather than see Donghyuck’s face.

Donghyuck smiles lazily. “I’ve got the constitution of an old man, Jisung-ah, don’t underestimate me.”

 

Jisung snorts, looking down at his cup. “That’s the last thing I do when it comes to you, hyung.”

 

In the cold light of the morning, the sun shining strong and yet not lending any warmth, last night doesn’t seem real. Jisung feels like he’s dreamt it all. The flashing lights, the roaring crowd, the happiness crawling up his chest, threatening to burst out his mouth, none of it seems real when he’s standing here, on Mark’s balcony, watching Donghyuck’s hair turn golden under the light.

 

“Your song was amazing,” Donghyuck says abruptly and Jisung turns to him startled. “I don’t think I’ve said it before, but it was. I didn’t do it justice.”

 

“You did,” Jisung says and he’s speaking the truth. He hasn’t listened to his song after they finished recording, couldn’t stand to hear his own lyrics thrown back in his face in the most beautiful way, but he couldn’t refute that all his members had done their best for it. “I loved it, hyung.”

 

Donghyuck shrugs, looking away and despite everything that’s happened between them, Jisung can feel himself protest at the worn down expression on Donghyuck’s face. Jisung can take himself feeling inadequate, it’s a feeling he’s long fought, but Donghyuck feeling the same is unacceptable. He takes the cup from Donghyuck’s hand and sets it and his own down on the table next to him and grabs Donghyuck’s hands in his own. “Hyung,” he says firmly, because he has to tell Donghyuck this, Donghyuck has to know, even if he doesn’t know where they stand, even if he’s still smarting from a few months ago, Donghyuck has to hear this. “You mean the world to me, you know that right?”

 

Donghyuck looks up at him, eyes liquid gold in the sunlight, and kisses him. Jisung makes a surprised noise. He didn’t think he’d ever get this again. Didn’t think he’d ever get to feel Donghyuck’s lips against his own. He pulls Donghyuck’s hands, still clasped in his own, to his chest, tugging him closer and kisses back, sandwiching their joined hands in between their body. Donghyuck tightens his fingers around Jisung’s and for a minute, it’s like the world stands still.

 

Then Donghyuck pulls away, and Jisung’s hands feel startlingly cold. “I’m sorry,” he says wide eyed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

He knew it. Jisung scoffs, trying in vain to mask the hurt that’s welling up in his chest. “Yeah,” he mutters. “You always say that, don’t you, hyung?”

 

Donghyuck shakes his head. “I didn’t mean - I just don’t want to give you false hope.”

 

Now Jisung’s angry. He’s had to put up with so long of being jerked around like a puppet of a string of Donghyuck’s whims. “I’m not a toy, hyung,” he says, pressing his lips together, trying to erase the taste of Donghyuck from his memory. “I don’t exist for you to kiss when you’re lonely and to leave when you’ve had your fill. I’m a real human being.” Donghyuck only bites his lips, and doesn’t say anything. Jisung takes a shuddery, angry breath. “Don’t talk to me, I don’t want to hear anything from you anymore,” he snaps and slams the sliding door shut behind him, the sudden warmth of Mark’s apartment doing nothing to warm him up. He thought he’d learned. He thought he’d changed. He thought he’d be able to escape Donghyuck’s gaze. He hadn’t.  

  
  
  


 

 

(2022, 21)

 

“What did you want to talk about?” Donghyuck asks wearily.

 

They’re in a roadside stand, far enough away from SM that Jisung isn’t worried about stray managers or press following them. They’re in the same place they used to come when they were younger, when Jisung was naiver and Donghyuck was happier. Jisung brushes the memories aside. They don’t matter now, not with how things turned out.

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jisung says lightly, pouring a glass of soju for Donghyuck ignoring the fact that it’s five thirty in the morning and they have to be back at work in four hours. “I thought hyung would have a lot to say.” He blinks up innocently at Donghyuck who purses his lips.

 

“Cut the bullshit, Jisung-ah,” he says, fiddling with the bottle cap.

 

Jisung raises an eyebrow. Fine, then. “Bullshit?” He asks quietly enough that they don’t raise the attention of the only other occupants nearby, but his tone makes Donghyuck raise his head. “All right, you know what’s _bullshit_ , hyung? It’s ignoring someone you haven’t seen for a year. Bullshit is crying when you listen to my song and refuse to talk to me for weeks afterwards. _Bullshit_ is ignoring every single _fucking_ message, call and voicemail I sent you while you were in America and answering with one thirty second voicemail congratulating me on the night of my _fucking solo debut._ ” Jisung hasn’t raised his voice throughout but he slams back in his chair, loud enough to draw curious gazes from the auntie serving them and the few others left in the tent. “That’s _my_ bullshit, hyung. Let’s talk about it.”

 

Silence follows, and Jisung stews in it. He’s angry enough for his hand to shake as he throws back another shot.

 

Donghyuck takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he says meeting Jisung’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have ignored you when I came back.” He pauses. “But I’m not going to apologise for America.”

 

Jisung bites down on the swell of anger. “You left me,” he says. “You broke up with me in a fucking closet in Japan and then you left. Without any explanation.”

 

Donghyuck observes him. “How many all kills did you get Jisung-ah?” He asks out of the blue. “During your solo, how many?”

 

Jisung blinks at him, startled. “What does that matter?”

 

“Answer the question.”

 

Jisung thinks. “Two?” He says hesitantly. He doesn’t exactly remember, just that he’d been ecstatic that he’d surpassed his own expectations.

 

“Two.” Donghyuck agrees. “You swept every major chart, hit an unprecedented number of album sales, and had a sold out concert. On your first solo comeback.” He looks at Jisung steadily. “Do you think that would have happened if the entire country found out you were dating? That you had a boyfriend, of all things?”

 

Jisung’s mouth drops open. “Please don’t tell me you did this because of what happened to Mark hyung,” he says, suddenly shaky.

 

“Of course, I did,” Donghyuck shoots back. “Mark was SM’s golden boy, and look what happened to him after that scandal. Do you think you would have escaped unscathed? They would have killed your career. And I was never going to be the reason that happened.”

 

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” Jisung snaps.

 

“You were an amazing soloist Jisung,” Donghyuck snaps back but there’s no anger in his voice. Jisung hates him. Hates how he can make Jisung seem so irrational. Hates how he’s so calm when Jisung is breaking apart in front of him. “You’re going places. I decided not to stand in the way of that. I wasn’t going to hurt you”  


Jisung looks down at the table, furious. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to put into words the things he’s feeling right now. He clenches his hands around his thighs, digging his nails into his sweats. “Well,” he says, and is pleased when his voice doesn’t shake. “You failed in that.” He looks up at Donghyuck, biting his bottom lip to stop from crying. “You put me through hell that year. I wondered for months what I’d done wrong to make you ignore me. I thought I was really worth leaving.” He blinks and a wave of tears rolls down his cheeks, and he wonders if he’ll ever stop crying over Donghyuck. “I wish I hadn’t met you, hyung.” He says, looking up at Donghyuck, his heart breaking again under the gaze of those golden eyes, now rimmed red with exhaustion. He wonders if he’ll ever stop being a fool for Donghyuck. “I really wish I had never met you. That would have spared me a lot of hurt.”

  
  
  
  
  


 

(2019, 18)

 

Jisung tugs Donghyuck down over him, kissing him harder. They’re all alone in the dorms, a blessed occurrence that happens once in a blue moon and they’d been watching tv together until Jisung had gotten bored and started kissing Donghyuck instead. Donghyuck pulls back just enough for their noses to brush and he fumbles for the remote shoved into the back of the sofa and turns the tv off.

 

“Hyung,” Jisung whines, wrapping his arms around Donghyuck’s neck and trying to pull him back. “We don’t have a lot of time, come on.”

 

Donghyuck giggles, pecking his nose. “You’re adorable,” he says leaning down to kiss Jisung again. Jisung lets the grossly incorrect compliment go in favour of kissing back, running his hands into Donghyuck’s hair. They kiss for a while, losing time and Jisung melts into Donghyuck’s touch, wrapping a leg around his calves and pulling him as close as possible.

 

“Hyung,” Jisung whispers after they’ve detached themselves and he’s curled up against Donghyuck’s chest, listening to Donghyuck absentmindedly sing to himself. Donghyuck hums and Jisung cranes his neck to look up at him. He’d never thought of himself as a romantic person, cringed at the cheesy dramas Jaemin loved to watch, but Donghyuck seems to bring out all kinds of hidden sides to him. “I’m really glad I met you, hyung.”

 

“Where did that come from?” Donghyuck asks, gently carding his fingers through Jisung’s hair. He grins. “Is our maknae emoting at last?”  


Jisung ignores this. “I mean it,” he presses. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here, hyung. I’m glad you’re next to me.”

 

Donghyuck smiles, devastatingly lovely, and Jisung’s heart beats harder, threatening to slam out of his chest. “I’ll never leave you,” he promises. “Don’t worry, Jisung-ah, I’ll always be by your side.”

  
  
  
  
  


 

(2023, 22)

 

The two hours flight back to Korea seems longer than it’s ever been. Jisung takes the seat next to Renjun and very carefully curls up around him, pointedly ignoring Mark’s knowing glances and Donghyuck’s... everything.

 

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually, you know,” Renjun says, quietly. Jisung takes his head off his shoulder to peer up at him.

 

“I don’t have to do anything,” he says huffily. “Plus, we already talked. Nothing good came of it.”

 

“He was just trying to protect you.”

 

“That’s the shittiest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

 

Renjun smacks him over the head, surprisingly strong for someone who’d just gotten out of the hospital.

 

“Ow!” Jisung hisses, clutching his head. “What the hell, hyung?”

 

“Stop being a brat,” Renjun orders. “Talk to him, _properly_. Preferably without screaming at each other in middle of the street.”

 

Jisung flushes. “How did you know about that?”  


Renjun smiles. “I’ve got eyes everywhere, maknae-yah,” he says eerily vague. “Talk to him, I don’t like seeing either of you sad.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

(2024, 23)

 

The week leading up to comebacks have always been hectic. They’re crammed into as many tv appearances, interviews and photoshoots and then are shuffled back to the company to practice until they do the whole thing over again the next day. But this time, Jisung doesn’t feel the exhaustion as acutely. Instead, he’s only pushed forward, a relentless thrumming in the back of his head beating out _last comeback, last comeback, last comeback_ spurring him forwards. It’s the same with all of them, the acute knowledge that, in a few months, they were losing two members at the forefront of everyone’s minds.

 

Donghyuck and Jisung settle into an uneasy peace, not unlike the one they’d had after Renjun’s accident. Donghyuck maintains a cheery demeanor, only belied by the flat, sad, look in his eyes, and Jisung pretends to believe it, and tries his best not to look at him for too long.

  
  
  


The day their music video drops, they’re all in the practice room, curled up around the laptop, as nervous as they’d been on the night of their debut. Jisung bites his nails and waits and waits and waits and-

  
  
  


 

 

(2023, 22)

 

“We always seem to end up here,” Donghyuck observes at the worn down stall. The auntie, now familiar with them simply nods as they take their usual seats by the back of the tent.

 

Jisung nods, shrugging off his jacket. It’s gotten too warm nowadays, and he regrets wearing layers.

 

“You said you wanted to talk?” Donghyuck asks, mouth twisting wryly. “Last time you said that here, you told me you wished we’d never met. Can I expect something in that vein today?”

  
Jisung glares at him. “You deserved it,” he says and Donghyuck smiles.

 

“Maybe,” he allows, pushing a shot over at Jisung who’s mollified enough to take it.

 

They sit in silence, Donghyuck waiting, Jisung figuring out what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to have a repeat of last time either, no matter how much he thinks Donghyuck deserves it.

 

“I,” he starts, taking a breath. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore, hyung.” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows, clearly not surprised. Jisung scrunches his nose, trying to make himself sound coherent. “I don’t like fighting with you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you walk all over me anymore.” Donghyuck looks like he wants to protest but Jisung presses forward. He needs to get this all out in its entirety, before he forgets what he’s here for, before he breaks again. “You’re not going to kiss me anymore,” he says firmly. “I can’t do that with you, I can’t-” he breaks off before he lets the words slip. _I can’t let you give me anymore false hope._ It’s not what he’s here for. “I don’t want to hate you hyung, but I can’t love you anymore either. It’s too hard.”

 

Donghyuck watches him silently for the longest time, slinging his glass around in his hands and Jisung tries not to shrink under his golden gaze, before he nods. “I won’t.” He says. “I’m sorry for ever making you feel like that, I never meant to, but,” he sighs and smiles sadly at Jisung. “I won’t do it anymore. Any of it.”

 

“Thank you,” Jisung whispers. It’s odd. He’s been here with Donghyuck so many times, in this little orange tent on the corner of two roads, the names of which he can never remember. He’s been here so many times, but he can never remember feeling like this. Feeling like his world is ending and beginning at the same time. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

 

Donghyuck huffs out a laugh. “What are you apologising for?” He asks incredulously and leans over to tap at Jisung’s chin to get him to look up at Donghyuck. “I told you, it was never your fault Jisung-ah. Don’t apologise for things that aren’t your fault.”

 

Jisung shrugs. “I’m sorry we ended up like this.”

 

Donghyuck smiles. “I think it turned out for the best,” he says and his eyes are fond. “Considering the alternative.”

 

Jisung stares back at him, and sitting in that little orange tent on the crossroads of two roads, just as he had four years ago smiling helplessly at Donghyuck who’d glowed in the setting sun, Jisung finally figures out what true love feels like. And he finally understands how to let go.

  
  
  
  
  


(2028, 27)

 

Jisung steps out of the taxi, bowing to the driver before turning and peering up at the house, hand clutching his snapback to keep it from flying away in the wind. The skies had darkened steadily on the drive up to the house and Jisung had been half sure the taxi would blow away in the gust.

  
Donghyuck’s house stands at the edge of the island, an incredibly modern build, overlooking the expanse of the sea. Jisung hesitates for one heartbeat, two, three, before ringing the bell. There’s a clatter and loud barking and then Donghyuck opens the door, flushed and just as beautiful, if not more, as the first time Jisung had seen him.

 

“ _Jisung_ ,” Donghyuck says hushed, happiness spilling from every syllable before he gathers Jisung up into a tight hug. Jisung clings on, pressing his nose into the crook of Donghyuck’s neck and drops his suitcase to wrap his arms around Donghyuck’s waist.

 

“I missed you,” Jisung says desperately, pulling back to drink in every detail of Donghyuck’s face. He looks healthy, cheeks full and eyes bright, and Jisung’s heart aches at being so close to him for the first time in months. “I missed you so, so much.”

 

“I missed you too,” Donghyuck says, and Jisung doesn’t think his body can contain the joy that’s threatening to burst in him. He cups Jisung’s face, and pulls him forward so their foreheads touch.

 

Jisung kisses him. “I love you,” he says into the space between their lips.

 

Donghyuck smiles against his mouth and kisses him again, sweet and so, so good, and Jisung feels like he’s melting. “I love you too, Jisung-ah.” He says. “So much.”

  
  
  
  


(2025, 24)

 

Donghyuck performs for the last time a week before Jisung’s twenty fourth birthday. It’s for some award show the name of which he’s not going to remember, so he doesn’t bother. Instead he focuses all his energy on remembering the important things. The way Mark raps, smiling as cockily at the camera as if he was eighteen years all over again. The way Jeno smiles, lovely and sweet as ever. The way Chenle laughs, and the way Jaemin dances, and the way Renjun sings. He remembers the way Jisung looks, shining under the spotlights, the way he turns to smile at Donghyuck, nose scrunching up as he grins, the way he slides his hand into Donghyuck’s and clings on.

 

“Jisung,” Donghyuck calls as the confetti explodes around them, the crowd roaring, a final chorus to the end of his symphony. Jisung turns to look at him, devastatingly handsome, eyes widening as Donghyuck tugs him closer. “I love you.”

 

Jisung stares at him for a heartbeat, two, three, before breaking out into a startlingly lovely smile. He opens his mouth to reply and says-

  


**Author's Note:**

> donghyuck's [house in jeju](https://static.dezeen.com/uploads/2016/05/pyeongdae-panorama-z-lab-residential-seaside-architecture-jeju-korea-kim-jae-kyeong_dezeen_1568_8.jpg)
> 
> I thought multiple times about ending it on a very ambiguous note but I am a sucker for a happy ending.
> 
> thank you for reading! let me know what you thought!
> 
>  
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/_donghyuck_)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/hyxcheis)  
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